Scream: The Story
by ScreamTheStory
Summary: This is the official account for Scream: The Story... After the television adaptation of the late but great Wes Craven's Film series has recently concluded it's first season, I decided to continue the series for fans of the horror franchise, Scream. The story takes place in the town of Sutton in the UK with entirely new characters, killers and deaths!


**Scream: The Story Part I**

 **Chapter 1: Number 1**

Ellie stumbled down the wide, cobbled street. Her heels almost broke under the sea of uneven stones as she tried to make out her house amongst the blur of green leaves, dark night skies and rows of houses so uniform that you could barely tell one from the other. She was not exactly in the best state of mind mind either. I'm not drunk, she thought, just slightly over the edge. It was probably the £6 bottle of Morrisons 'good value' whiskey that did it. Her stomach churned at the thought. She made a mental note never EVER to down half a bottle of that before sprinting for the last train home again. Not that she would remember in the morning.

She groaned at the thought of waking up the next day with a typical Sunday morning hangover, nursing the toilet as her mum judged her from a distance. Not that she could judge, she thought, she normally comes home late Sunday morning still slightly drunk from her 'ladies night'. Although, after having promised her mother just hours before now that she would stay home and look after Rex, their 4 year old Yorkshire Terrier, Ellie felt the disapproving stares as she wretched and groaned beside the toilet bowl would be slightly more justified this time. Oh well. I'll say I have the flu, she thought, chuckling at the shear brilliance of the plan and attempting to applaud herself for her drunken genius but each hand missed the other in a truly epic fashion. She was glad no one was there to see it. No one ever walked down her road at this time of night.

The blur of houses became harder and harder to depict from one another.

'Fuck's sake!' Were the slurred yells that came out of her mouth as she stacked over what felt like a giant boulder stuck in the middle of the road. Her toes screamed in agony as she continued blundering on, making another mental note to yell at whichever idiot decided it was a great idea to have thousands of stones making some sort of uneven death trap of a road compared to what seemed like the blissful, stub free concept of a normal Tarmac road.

The night was filled with distant noises of cars speeding down in nearby streets, and the wind dragging dead and forgotten leaves across the pavement, scraping the ground like nails on a chalkboard as Ellie passed in and out of the flickering gazes of the street lights above. The dim red light created a very ominous feeling, with the bushes having thousands of the eyes that all seemed transfixed on the lonely sole in the deserted road. A faint rustle echoed like the whispers of a thousand fleeting ghosts. Ellie stopped suddenly, and ever so cautiously turned towards the sound. She wasn't sure whether it was the alcohol playing with her senses or no but something felt wrong tonight. The leaves were almost darker than the night sky and the large hedge seemed to bare down on her, but there was nothing truly dangerous about it. Great, she thought as her heart hammered continually in her chest, this stuff has really messed me up good and proper. Although she still felt uneasy as she carried on.

As she clambered on, she noticed a gnome sized statue of a large, creamy white cat that stood, almost expectantly under the dim outside light of one particular house. It was the cat she had bought only a year ago after she'd managed to get lost down her own road, her hammered mind at the time couldn't tell which house was hers so she'd ended up almost sleeping at the side of the road until her dad, who'd been worried sick after she'd failed to return home, had found her napping at the bottom of next door's drive. After that night she made sure her house was at least slightly more distinguishable from the others by placing a small statue of a tabby cat in plain view from the road at the bottom of the drive. She'd finally made it home.

Her thoughts were on the large king sized bed waiting for her upstairs and the blissful freedom of finally being able to take of these uncomfortable heels, giving her blisters blisters! Ellie almost ran up the drive way, moving as fast as her battered and worn out feet could carry her. Arm outstretched to plunge the key into the hole, she stopped. It may have been her imagination running away with her, but she could of sworn that the corner of her eye had registered a shadow moving swiftly behind her. Something was wrong and she knew it, but her confused and groggy brain could not quite fit all the pieces together. She looked back over her shoulder. Nothing. Plain black. Empty.

'Hello?' She called out, her words bouncing off every surface and darting through the air through every house in the street. She paused. No reply. That was good.

She looked down at the marble cat, its eyes apparently fixed disapprovingly on her dishevelled appearance.

'Don't look at me like that', she barked at the inanimate object, 'you'd understand if you tried The Moon's strawberry daiquiris!' With that, she almost fell inside.

The house was empty. Her mum was at a ladies night with her friends from work so wouldn't be back until tomorrow afternoon nursing what she would only describe as the hangover the end them all, and her dad was out of town on business, or whatever it was he did, she didn't really care.

Her home was quietly quaint. Always kept clean and tidy by her slightly OCD father, the rooms were covered in marble designed to look almost like wooden paving. Shoes lined up nicely by one end and a long coat rack, which was normally covered in different bags and coats but now looked distinctly bare. It was a fairly spacious house, with very little objects, furniture or decoration cluttering the floor or covering the creamy white walls.

Switching the landing light on, she slammed the door clumsily behind her. She had to focus rather hard on keeping her hands steady as she bolted and triple locked the door. Her dad was constantly paranoid that if they didn't firmly secure the door form the inside, anyone could pick the lock, enter the house and steal all their wildly possessions. If he wasn't fully sure the door was locked down, he wouldn't sleep which meant for a horrible following morning. Her dad wasn't someone anyone would like to see angry. Thinking of this made her hand twitch towards her arm as she sighed at the thought of wasting ages trying to lock the door. If someone happened to knock she'd have to repeat the process of unlocking and then locking the door fully. It was pointless. The area had the lowest crime rate in the entire county. Nothing was gonna happen.

Stepping into the kitchen, she turned on the oven as she'd been craving a pizza ever since she'd left her friends at the pub. She glanced blearily upon her reflection in the kitchen window. Her long dirty blonde hair was all over the place, with only one of her plaits still intact, the other looking like she'd been in a rather nasty fight with a hairdryer. Groaning at the sight of her once pristine and now booze stained skirt; she popped her pizza in the oven and sat down to check her phone.

She had undoubtedly been bombarded with texts, as she usually was, by her friends asking if she'd managed to get home safely, and hoping she wasn't mugged or hit by a car as she stumbled drunkenly across the road. This always annoyed her. It was illogical to think she could reply to such stupid messages if she had actually been run over or mugged. It was not as it she could reply 'soz just got run over #drunkenantics so on my way to A&E lol ㈴1' if that had actually happened! But when she opened her phone, she found nothing. No one asking if she was ok, or if she had got home safely or anything. Rude, she tutted as she threw her phone to one side, not even one of them cares enough about me to say anything... The cheeky little...

The yapping of her dog pulled her out of her self pitying thoughts, barking at her feet.

'Shut up, Rex, or the neighbours will hear you and complain... Again!' She hissed as she picked up the tiny Yorkshire terrier and practically threw him out into the pitch black garden. He may have been coming up 5 years old, but he was still small enough that even Ellie could throw him around like a rag doll. His barks died away and she gulped down several glasses of water, trying to avoid the inevitable searing head pain the next day.

The phone rang.

The sound made her jump out of her skin. No one should be calling at 12.34 at night. That's stupid. Unless it was her mum. She thought how it may be her mother drunkenly escaping to the bathroom on her ladies night to call and check everything was ok. She always worried after a glass (or 5) of wine. She forgot that Ellie was able to take care of herself, and that if she wasn't going out, like she had promised her mum she would not, she wouldn't be able to answer the phone in the first place as she would be asleep. Sighing expectantly, she paused several seconds before answering, trying to convince her mother on the other end that she had been awoken from a deep, sober slumber. She answered the phone.

'Hi, mum'

'Hello', replied a deep, croaky male voice with a thick American accent.

'Mum?'

'Hello?' croaked the deep American voice, 'who is this?'

Ellie paused. She didn't even know who this man was but she knew that she didn't want to carry on the conversation with him a moment longer.

'Sorry, mate, I think you've got the wrong number...' And before he could say another word, she hung up the phone. The distant barks of Rex could still be heard as she put down the phone and resumed drinking. It rang again.

'Hello' she answered.

'Hello', came the deep, American voice again, 'who is this?' The voice sounded calm. Toneless. The sound of it made her stomach churn more than the alcohol had done.

'I told you, you have the wrong number, goodbye!' She snapped and with one slick movement she slammed the phone down. She had no time for cold callers. She moved over to the kitchen window, trying to see Rex out in the garden. It was pitch black. She could not see anything past the pane of glass that was in front of her and her own reflection staring, with glazed eyes, directly at her. She listened intently. The barks were still distant. The Bridget's did own a very large garden, which was perfect for Rex because he loved to run around right to the very end, almost out sight of the house, even in broad day light. Was it just her imagination or had Rex's barks grown louder? More aggressive? More threatening? He's probably just found a squirrel, she thought to herself, but even as she tried to dismiss the odd change in Rex's tone, a knot tightened in her stomach, increasing the uneasy feeling. It was awfully dark tonight.

The phone rang again. This angered Ellie more than it should have done. Maybe it was the whiskey taking control of her emotions, or maybe it was the uneasy feeling the voice gave her. It sounded perfectly normal but it felt more like eyes. As if the voice had eyes that were watching her. Right now. If it was that stupid American guy again, she would tell him where he could shove his phone. She angrily jammed the phone to her ear.

'Hello?' she snarled.

'Hello,' answered the same voice. The sickly, uneasy feeling in her stomach heightened.

'Listen! If you call this number again I will...'

'HANG UP THE PHONE AND I WILL DRAPE YOUR GUTS OVER THE DOORWAY FOR DEAR MUMMY TO FIND!' They had finally snapped. The balance had tipped. The tone was no longer monotonous and quizzical but deeper, meaner and deadlier. Somehow she felt that his threats were genuine.

Ellie froze. The glass of water that she held in her hand fell to the floor and smashed.

'That's better', chuckled the voice, his deep tone echoing through the room as Ellie stood behind the sea of broken glass, 'I've got you attention now, haven't I?'

'Who are you?' Ellie trembled.

'Who are you?'

'I'm Ellie Bridget now who the hell are you?'

'Tell me, Ellie' the voice seemed to coo, 'what's your favourite scary movie?'

He seemed to emphasise the last part like it was some sort of joke. A game. Well, if it was, Ellie thought, he was messing with the wrong girl. She slowly pulled open the draw next to her, taking out a large carving knife which she held tightly in her hand. This made her feel safer, more secure, more confident.

'What kind of a question is that?' She spat. A deep, throaty cackle made Ellie feel even more uncomfortable.

'What are you gonna do with that knife, Ellie, cut me open?'

Ellie almost dropped the knife but tightened her grip just in time. The last question caused a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

He could see her.

She looked around desperately, trying to see if there was a face lurking outside her window, something she could attach to the voice. Running over to the blackness outside the window she squinted frantically, desperately trying to make out a shape in the darkness. It was then she noticed the barking had stopped.

'What are you talking about, you dirty little...'

'Don't get angry with me, Ellie', the voice interrupted.

'Why shouldn't I be angry?', Ellie snarled, 'you're watching me, threatening me in my own home'

'Yes', the voice replied, matter a factly, 'but the question you really should be asking is... Where am I?' The voice cackled with laughter as Ellie stared frantically around her.

She could see nothing outside, and it felt like the walls inside were closing in around her, rooting her to the spot where she stood. Her phone buzzed in the corner. She started at it.

'I would check that if I were you'. The voice knew. With trembling hands, she edged cautiously over the the sofa chair where her phone lay. Her eyes still darting between each of the wall of windows in front of her, she slowly grabbed her phone and looked at the screen. It was a video message and the ID was blocked. Her heart began pounding loudly against her rib cage.

'Open it', cried the voice as she tentatively unlocked her phone and opened the message. It was her. The video was of her gazing frantically around, her hair dishevelled, her face stony white and the large landline pressed tightly to her ear. Ellie gasped, horrified. It seemed to have been shot from above. She looked up at the window directly above her, expecting the worst... But there was nothing.

'What?' She murmured. Her phone buzzed again. Another video message. She did not hesitate this time. The video was at a different angle. This time is was of her finishing the previous video and gazing, terrified, up at the ceiling window. It was shot directly in front of her. Ellie screamed and dropped the phone, which smashed as it plummeted to the ground.

'Are you scared?' The voice whispered menacingly into her ear, and now it felt like it was right next to her.

'If this is some stupid fucking game...' Ellie yelled, fighting back the terrified tears.

'You know, you never answered my first question, did you?', the voice said, the anticipating and exciting barely contained in his attempt at a calm tone. 'What is your favourite scary movie?'

'I hate them!' Ellie choked back, her heart pounding faster than the speed of sound.

'Really? That's a real shame. Do you know what mine is?', the voice cried, almost yelling at this point. A shadow darker than the night sky flew towards the window. There was a loud crash as the glass window in front of her shattered into a million tiny pieces. Amidst her screams of terror, Ellie noticed what had been used to break the window. It was a dead Rex. His eyes still open, he gazed emptily straight ahead, blood pouring out of a long, deep, stab wound.

'SCREAM!'

The last word came not only from the phone, but from a dark figure standing just outside the window. The man was dressed in a long black anorak which covered his upper body, except for his large white mask. It was ineffably haunting. A warped expression, cold, drooping eyes and a contorted mouth, howling in silence.

And a knife.

Ellie screamed and pelted towards the kitchen door as the dark, masked figure leapt in through the window. She slammed the door in the man's face as he pelted after her, narrowly missing her head as he dug the knife into the wooden door frame. She catapulted up the stairs, knowing that attempting to open the front door would take too long and she would be dead before unlocking the first bolt, as the man pursued, her mind set on getting as far away from that knife as she possibly could.

The man behind her swiped at her, his long black halted knife slicing through her jeans, cutting the back of her leg. She yelled in pain as the man lunged at her. She jumped the last few stairs to avoid the blade and threw the first thing she could get her hands on, a empty old vase that lay on the window pane, directly at the attackers face. He recoiled as the vase smashed on the step directly in front of him, and this gave Ellie enough time to hurtle into one of the rooms, slamming the door behind her.

Her heart was racing, and sweat dripped from her forehead as she frantically dived behind the bed of her parents bedroom and held her breath. Her mind was blank. She had no idea how she was gonna get out of this. Common sense was not gonna be enough to help her through a potential murderer attacking her, especially when she'd been drinking all evening. She silently cursed herself at her binging antics as she heard the masked figure burst his way into the room. The silence was deafening. The darkness was blinding. Ellie dared not even breathe. She heard the killer creeping ever so slowly to where she was. She could feel his drooping eyes sweeping the room, narrowly missing the point where she lay. He knew she was in here.

The figure silently turned towards the row of large wardrobes lining the edge of the room. One by one he burst them open, trying to find his victim amongst the cluttered dresses and suits. His back was fully turned. Ellie took this opportunity to grab the bed side lamp that stood on top of the bedside table. Slowly, she lifted herself up and aimed for the killers head. She needed this shot to hit. She had no back up plan. No other way. It was kill or be killed.

With one swift movement she chucked the lamp, hitting the back of the attacker's masked head. He winced in pain, and Ellie seized this opportunity. She leapt over the bed and out of the door; just as the killed turned to see her feet past swiftly out of sight.

She ran back downstairs as fast as her swollen and butchered feet could carry her, ignoring the searing pain that came from the burning scar the attacker had given her. She knew she didn't have enough time to open the front door, for the number of safety locks would require more time than she knew she had. The only other escape route she could think of was through the kitchen. There was fully smashed window in there, big enough for a person to jump through. That was how the killer got in. That was how she was going to get out.

She burst in through the kitchen door and ran through the broken shards of glass now covered in blood still seeping out of the dogs open wound. Her heart stopped at the sight of her lifeless dog lying in the middle of the kitchen floor, but her feet daren't stop moving. She flung herself through the open window, cutting hands on the broken ends of glass that still clung to the window frame, just as the masked man blasted open the kitchen door, knife held menacingly in the air. Her hands and leg screamed in pain as the scars felt the cool winds of the night as she sprinted into the blackness. She could not see a thing. She knew her garden well but she doubted that she would be able to get out and to safety without being able to see anything in front of her.

Desperately clambering around in the darkness, she felt her way through the night. The blood oozed down her leg and arms but she soldiered on, trying as hard as she could to be as silent as possible, knowing that any second the masked man could come up behind her. She felt hard wood. Her shed. Something she could use. Her hands fumbled with the locks and she desperately tried to open the door. After a few frantic seconds of scrambling aimlessly, she unlocked the door and jumped inside, cautiously trying to shut the door as quietly as she could behind her.

It was pitch black in the shed. The perfect place to hide. She felt her way through the mass of discarded objects, crouching behind the old and decrepit arm chair that had been put in there a few weeks earlier. It was just big enough to hide her crouching body. She breathed for what felt like the first time in hours. Examining her wounds, she tried to ignore the agonising pain the cuts were causing her. She had no plan, no means of escape, nothing. She was trapped in her cramped shed amidst a pile of dirty discarded objects with nowhere else to hide. She had no idea where the man was. Why was he here? What did he want with her? Why now? Her mind racing with all these questions, she felt around in her pockets for her phone. Nothing. She didn't have anything. No means of getting help at all. She was trapped.

A flood of lights poured through the windows and Ellie gasped. The man had switched on the outside lights, and it seemed to expose Ellie, lighting up a path directly towards where she was. She hunched into a even tighter ball behind the sofa. She had no weapons in here, so all she could do was hide. The faint footsteps of the man as he crept around the garden seemed to echo like cannon blasts in Ellie's ears. She felt them grind to a hault just outside the shed door, the shadows of the dark black figure seeping through the cracks in the doors. He hesitated. She held her breath. Her heart hammered so loudly she was surprised he couldn't hear it. The figure was inches away from her, and he knew it. But just as suddenly as he had stopped, he moved off again. Ellie sat in silence as she heard the footsteps move further and further away until they were nearly inaudible. This was her one chance.

She tentatively stood up, being very careful not to make a sound. She tip toed toward the door. She knew this was her last chance. She had to run. Run as fast as she could. Out the back gate. Find help. Her bloodied hands trembled as she reached for the handle and very slowly they turned it. Peeking her eyes through the crack in the door, she saw nothing. He must have been at the top of the garden. So she ran.

Darting down the grass she pelleted towards the other side of the house where the gate was. When she finally reached it she quickly unbolted it, threw it open and ran.

Straight into the man's knife.

She buckled over in pain. The man had been waiting for her, the only place that could have seen her flee to safety. But how?

She pushed at the man, screaming as he grabbed her arm, twisting her round so she had her back to him, his knife against her throat.

He sliced it open.

Blood erupted from the open scar as she struggled desperately for air, to no avail. It was too late. The last thing she saw was the shadow of her own limp body against the flickering porch lights, collapsing on the arms of a larger, tormenting figure, before the blackness took over.

The man watched as the limp shell of the girl she had killed fell to the ground in a pool of her own blood. She had put up a fight. She had lost. It was satisfying seeing the empty, terrified gaze of the girl, no longer seeing what was right in front of her. She would never see anything ever again, crumpled in a heap on the ground. Unmoving.

The man gazed around, looking for any sign of life nearby. Nothing.


End file.
